The Queen of Hearts
by Pimpernel Princess
Summary: My Sunny, Funny Ficathon entry at last!. While reading Alice in Wonderland, Rhett falls asleep and has a rather strange dream. Scarlett is even more over-the-top than usual.
1. Of Brandy and Books

**Author's Note: **Yes, my Sunny, Funny Ficathon entry has been posted at last. I hope that it satifies. Thank you to **Monsieur Andre** and **skyebugs** for pointing out my arachronism. Oops! Enjoy Rhett's Adventure in Wonderland!

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The Queen of Hearts: Of Brandy and Books

Their conversation from the night before had been running through his head all day, even while he was walking back to his hotel from the warehouse he had been conducting business in all that day. Scarlett, the widow who was still sweet and seventeen, who had a child but was little more than a child herself, was fascinating. She had been courted by dozens of bachelors, already had buried a husband, and lusted after the husband of her closest female friend and sister-in-law. Rhett wandered into a bookstore, still caught up in his musings over that belle.

And now how he wanted her. She, the woman who had no heart for the Cause of the Confederacy, who only gave it lip service because of her infatuation with a certain one of its soldiers. She, the woman whose husband was rotting in a Carolina grave. If Rhett hadn't seen the ring on Scarlett's finger and her black crepe mourning costume, he would never would have guessed that Scarlett had been married at all. Her mourning costume was just that; Scarlett's was acting the part of a widow as if she was acting in a pantomime. Except that even the cheapest actress was still better than Scarlett ever could be. In their one conversation the night before, Rhett had found more ammunition then most people could find in a year; he could get Scarlett riled. He just needed another opportunity. He would see her again soon, he was certain.

Now, to try to get her out of his head: that would take a decent distraction. Rhett rummaged through the books on the small shelf. What had he here? _Alice in Wonderland_. Rhett wasn't sure if it had been published yet, but he bought the slim but overpriced (and anachronistic) volume and slipped it into a pocket. Perhaps Rosemary would like it. It was nowhere near Christmas, but his sister deserved a gift now and then. In fact, Rosemary wasn't much older than Scarlett. They had the same drive and determination, but the similarities ended there. Rosemary was muscled and dark where Scarlett was pale and slim. Rosemary spent much of her days pouring over books and raging against the social constraints set for the women of their time. Yet, Scarlett was beginning to rail against them too, while still maintaining her charming and mannered ways.

After arriving back at the hotel, Rhett had a long dinner then played cards at the saloon long into the night. He couldn't possibly visit Belle when he had Scarlett completely on his mind. After losing, and then winning back, a small fortune with a straight that led off with the Queen of Hearts, Rhett retired for the night. His mind was nowhere near ready to rest, however. Sipping a brandy, Rhett slung himself over an armchair. He twisted, trying to get comfortable, but the contents of his pocket dug into his hip.

Rhett pulled the book from his pocket and flipped through it. He had not read Alice in Wonderland before--in fact, no one had. Vaguely interested, Rhett flipped through it. One illustration in particular caught his attention: Alice playing croquet with the Queen of Hearts. Nothing to remind him of Scarlett here. Or was there? Something nagged at the back of his mind, something he had said at the bazaar the night before. Now his eyelids were getting heavy—_too much brandy_, Rhett thought to himself before drifting to sleep.


	2. Adventures in Wonderland

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for reading and reviewing Chapter 1. It's been a little crazy lately, so forgive my procrastination in posting the next chapter. And thank you to the people who pointed out that since Alice in Wonderland wasn't published until 1865, Rhett couldn't have been reading it. Please forgive my anachronism. Chapter 1 has been revised appropriately.

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The Queen of Hearts: Adventures in Wonderland

Rhett was a little boy again. Or perhaps he had just shrunk—the whole world seemed so tall to him. He walked among the fields of Dixie, wondering why everything felt so strange. The colors were brighter here, somehow. And every step that Rhett took seemed to take him less distance than normal. Too much brandy indeed.

Eventually, Rhett came upon two slaves talking in the fields. Brushes and buckets in hand, they were painting the cotton red. How very peculiar.

"What are you doing?" Rhett asked smugly.

"We's got ta paint dis cotton for ta Queen," one of them replied.

"Iffen she catches us, we'll be ex-ee-cut-ed," the other added, worriedly.

"We's planted white roses by mistake, sah," the first one said again.

Rhett smothered a laugh at the absurdity of it all. "What is all of this nonsense—who wants to plant red cotton? And who is this Queen?"

"There's da last boll of 'et," the first slave sighed in relief, ignoring Rhett's questions. Without a moment to spare, he and his friends bolted.

Rhett stared at the now-red cotton, thoroughly confused. A trumpet sounded in the distance as someone approached.

"Why do you stand in my garden? Off with your head!"

Rhett whirled around in shock; he knew that voice. It was the same voice she had used when berating Ashley Wilkes that day at Twelve Oaks.

Scarlett stood behind him in a dress that showed off her seventeen inch waist and womanly bosom to perfection. Her creamy white skin was a marvelous contrast to the sable and scarlet of the gown. The bodice was shaped like a heart—a sweetheart neckline and stays that trailed down to a pointed waistline. And a skirt so huge that it could double as a roomy tent, held up by an enormous hoopskirt. Pennant sleeves trailed twenty feet behind her. On every finger was a ring of ruby, silver, or onyx, complemented by bracelets and earbobs. And the crown—even though he had caught the occasional glimpse of the royalty of Europe, Rhett had never even conceived of something so ostentatious. The crown itself was crowned by a heart-shaped ruby as large as Rhett's fist; the matching scepter that Scarlett bore ended in a heart-shaped bobble was as large as a club.

Rhett stared. For several moments. "What are you playing at Miss O'Hara?" Rhett asked scornfully, after recovering the use of his mental faculties.

"I am the Queen of Hearts, Mr. Butler," Scarlett said haughtily. "But perhaps after all of the trouble that you have given me, I should execute you."

"Not if you want to be an ignored widow your whole life through," Rhett pointed out sardonically.

Scarlett was taken aback. "But I danced last night, widow or no," she reminded him defiantly. "But Last night was rather nice," she added softly. "You dance divinely, Captain Butler."

"Only when I have a partner as charming as yourself, Miss O'Hara," Rhett replied courteously.

Scarlett grinned at him, teeth like a Cheshire Cat's. "Why thank you, Captain Butler," she said, obviously turning up the ante on her charm.

"You are welcome, Miss O'Hara," Rhett said with a gallant bow. It seemed such a sacrilege to call her Mrs. Hamilton.

A bell chimed three in the distance, prompting a fanfare of trumpets which in turn prompted a lackey to pop out of the cotton bushes nearby and ceremoniously hand Scarlett an ornately and rather heartily decorated badminton racket. "'Tis three o'clock. Now, we have a shooting contest. It's what we do for fun here in Wonderland," Scarlett announced in a very queenly fashion.

"Lovely," Rhett deadpanned. He was handed a less ostentatious racket, then followed Scarlett to the court. A woman on a mission, Scarlett made Rhett practically run to keep up with her.

"Now," Scarlett said, reaching the court, "we play." Scarlett picked up the birdie, that really look like more of a white rabbit than an actual birdie, and smacked it to Rhett.

Rhett, still stuck in the body of a little boy, jumped as high as he could, but didn't manage to hit the birdie. Scarlett smirked as it fell to the ground.

"Nice try," Scarlett gloated. "I shall have to take it easy on you. Your serve, Captian Butler."

The game progressed: before long the score was 17 to 0, with Scarlett in the lead. Determined to hold his own, Rhett finally adjusted to dream-physics when one tries and tries to jump, or run, or dodge but cannot quite manage to quickly enough.

Scarlett served the birdie over the heart-shaped net to Rhett. Instead of trying to hit the birdie, Rhett dodged it. His racket made contact and with a satisfying smack, it sailed over the net and landed near Scarlett's feet.

Scarlett gaped at him, dignity lost in open-mouthed outrage.

Rhett wondered what he had done. Surely scoring a point in a match of badminton wasn't a crime in this kingdom. Then again, knowing Scarlett, anything was possible.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhett saw the pale ghost of Charles Hamilton whisper to the man next to him, "He should have known better—that's how I lost my head." Rhett hadn't even noticed Charles standing in the background. Although the ghost was transparent, Charles really wasn't any different than he had been that day at Twelve Oaks.

A lackey ran sheepishly to the court, a red scroll in his hand. "I-I-It is l-l-law that any p-p-person who defeats the Queen of H-h-hearts at b-b-badminton shall h-h-hereby be tried and f-f-further convicted b-b-by the Queen."

Rhett rolled his eyes. Scarlett should never be allowed to rule the universe.

"Sentence first, trial later," Scarlet snapped. "Off with his head!" Scarlett's servants began to drag forward an enormous heart-shaped guillotine. She demurely turned to Rhett. "Any last words, Captian Butler?"

Rhett shook his head; it was useless to argue with Scarlett. This was a dream, wasn't it? As two lackeys lead him forward to the guillotine, Rhett paused and turned back to Scarlett for a moment. He now remembered what he had said to her at the bazaar the evening before. It was too ironic.

"You are a heartless creature, Scarlett," Rhett began dramatically. "But perhaps that is part of your charm," he added cynically. The lackeys led him to the guillotine.

"Off with his head!" Scarlett shouted. As his neck was placed where the knife was about to fall, Rhett managed to steal one last glimpse of Scarlett O'Hara, the Queen of Hearts. She was staring at him, queenly and aloof.

As if he was not the executee, but instead a different player in the ghastly charade, Rhett watched Scarlett give a little cry and turn her eyes away as the knife raced down toward Rhett's neck. Perhaps a human heart did beat in her chest after all.

~*~

Rhett woke with a start, dribbling brandy over himself; he had still been holding the glass when he had fallen asleep. Odd dreams, but of course, dreams often were. Still, he had learned a lesson—never try to beat Scarlett O'Hara at her own game. Or perhaps that thinking of Scarlett and drinking hard liquor did not mix well this late at night.

But Scarlett O'Hara was beautiful—and Rhett still wanted her. Even if she would try to guillotine him for beating her at badminton. Why? Rhett didn't know. Perhaps because they were so like, or perhaps Rhett was just a glutton for emotional punishment. Still, Rhett would call on Scarlett as soon as it wasn't quite so scandalous. He didn't care, but she would. Rhett wasn't sure, but maybe he liked the thought that his heart had a new queen—just as long as she didn't scream "Off with his head!" the next time they would meet.

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TIPPEROSE:

Submit a sentence of your choice: "You are a heartless creature, Scarlett, but perhaps that's part of your charm."

* Optional: From which POV do you want the story to be written and/or in which time period should it be set: Rhett's POV and right after the fundraiser for the Confederacy when she and Melanie were in mourning for Charles and he asked her dance.

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Hope you enjoyed the ride!


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